


Escape Rope

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pokemon
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And despite her insistence upon finishing the project, she couldn't help but notice the butterflies in her stomach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape Rope

To Roxanne, graduation brought relief and solitude. She didn't care much for the others her age, and so once she no longer had to spend time daily with them, she never intended to see them again.

Brawly was the exception, of course. He forced himself into her life, pestering her daily on her phone and walking to her house every Saturday afternoon (she pretended not to be home, but only sometimes).

She had long accepted this practical joke. He found it quite amusing to ask her out every so often as a running prank. Once upon a time, she'd experience emotional whip lash, dancing back and forth between hope and despair and longing. These days, she just laughed it off.

After all, she now had the confidence to just accept that handsome, smart, popular Brawly would never date a nerdy, ugly girl like her.

Some days that summer, Brawly made himself impossible to avoid. In such times, though, he didn't pry too much into her plans for the future - everyone knew that the valedictorian of Rustboro High School would be attending Celadon Academy next year on a full scholarship. Nor did he focus on the fact that she never visited anyone, never used her cell phone to make calls, never spent time relaxing, even during the break.

"If you could go back and do it again," he asked, gently propelling himself back and forth on the elementary school swing set, "would you?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I would never return to high school. Not even if you paid me."

…

…

Roxanne now ponders these words. She is sitting behind her desk, having just taught a classroom full of tenth graders about irony.

She watches them carefully. Although she can see their pens scribbling across paper in dutiful silence, she also sees many other things. She can tell that the blonde girl in the fourth row is smitten, based on the lax stare to the ceiling and the doodles on the edges of her notebook. From the looks of it, the black-haired boy in the baseball cap is cheating off of the girl with pigtails next to him, and she looks like she's about to smack him. To top it all off, two boys in the back are muttering seriously together, the blond one's face lit up with inspiration.

Roxanne doesn't stop any of the misbehavior. As she has learned quickly, punishing the students only leads to more disobedience. Despite her strict tendencies, she's managed to avoid inciting a riot. Unlike last year.

The bell on the wall rings, and all the kids flip over their papers. "Just leave the essays on your desks," Roxanne shouts over the sudden burst of noise. "I'll pick them up." She stays seated until everyone has gathered their things from the back of the classroom and walked through the door.

As she paces the empty rows, picking up sheets of notebook paper, she realizes that a presence is walking just a few steps behind her. Turning, she sees that it is the blond girl with the ponytail. Roxanne hesitates, then asks, "Can I help you?"

The girl shakes her head, but her eyes droop a little on the edges. "Um… well, I had a question."

"Was it something from the lecture? My tutorial hours are posted on the-"

"No, it wasn't the lecture," the girl says. "It's something else. I just don't know who to talk to about it…"

…

…

The girl tells a familiar story.

Most girls in Roxanne's high school class spent hours each morning brushing on a thick layer of foundation, sticking fake eyelashes over dark eye shadow, and spraying half a canister of hair spray into 80's style bobs. Roxanne took pride in her ability to roll out of bed, throw on her uniform, and ride her bike to school about ten minutes before the late bell. As far as makeup went, Roxanne preferred the 'natural' style. Or, as most girls thought of it, the 'naked' style.

In a world where style was priority and reputation was everything, Roxanne didn't give a crap what anyone thought about her. Her type-A personality and ambitions for the future wouldn't let her think about anything other than how to get the best grade in the class. Even during her senior year, she studied nightly, sat in the front row of every class, and refused to help others who needed help with something (since that would only give them a GPA boost).

Also, she hated group projects. Mostly because she would always get stuck doing all the work.

…

…

The little blond girl in Roxanne's classroom talks about how she may not be the smartest girl around, she does have artistic talent, and that's where the problem is. "It's not a problem. I don't  _mind_  making our entire poster, but my group is making it really difficult…"

Two weeks ago, Roxanne assigned her class a major project, involving assigned group work. Each group is supposed to represent the themes from the book "The Count of Monte Pyre" using at least three different mediums, as well as a presentation. Understandably, no one had been enthusiastic about it. But until hearing this girl's dilemma, Roxanne has been unabashed by her choice of assignment.

"Do you want me to split up your group?" Roxanne asks. "I don't know what else you would have me do."

"No, no!" the girl says quickly, waving her hands in front of her. "I don't want that. I just want to be reassured that my grade won't suffer because Bl- I mean, because some people in my group don't do their work."

Roxanne, relieved, nods. "Yes, of course I can make sure of that. Will you write down the names of those who are in your group?"

The blond girl nods, her ponytail swishing through the air as she scribbles a few names onto a sheet of notebook paper. Then she smiles and hurries out the door, no doubt to get to seventh period.

Roxanne stares at the sheet of paper. Four names. Then she sighs in realization when she sees the first name on the paper. "Of course. No wonder she's having such a hard time getting stuff done…"

…

…

Roxanne didn't like her eleventh grade history class much. Since there were no advanced options for more intelligent students, she ended up in the same class with the idiots.

Not, by any means, ideal.

To make matters worse, the teacher would pick groups based on the row in which you sat. Since the rows were alphabetical, there was absolutely no choice or anything of the sort involved.

And everyone, not just Roxanne, hated it.

"Your major project this month is to write a research paper over a major historical event!" announced the teacher. Roxanne perked up, since writing had always been a talent of hers. "Each member of your group…"

…and there went that momentary high. A group  _research paper_? That was only a recipe for disaster. She wondered why exactly teachers kept assigning group projects when, clearly, none of their students enjoyed them. (Later, she learns that this is because most teachers don't care enough to think of something new and original.)

Fast forward to after school in the library, where she sat behind the computer screen, typing away. A pile of books a foot high sat on the table next to her.

"Need any help?" Brawly asked, lounging on the stool nearby. Of the group of six, he was the only person to show up (besides Roxanne, of course). Everyone else had an excuse; Tabitha had football practice, Shelly was working on a dance routine with her friend Courtney, and Flannery had a date (she wouldn't say who, but the entire school knew it was Steven Stone, the richest kid in school).

Winona did have a fair reason; apparently, her grandfather in Fortree City had some old artifacts from the Great Civil War, so she was busy making the trip to fetch them. Roxanne would have to remember to thank her for being the only other semi-intelligent person in the group.

But for now, she was stuck with Brawly. Lazy, athletic Brawly, who could have easily been quarterback instead of Tabitha but preferred to spend his Friday nights surfing. Stupid, silly Brawly, who would rather try to make her laugh then get the stupid project done.

Now, however, he could tell that she was in a bad mood. Not a good time to joke around.

"No, I'm fine", she snapped, resting her head in both hands. "It's just… all these articles don't add up. I mean, I read one that says that this guy named 'Dennis' was the leader of the rebels, and another naming this guy 'Surge'… Ugh!"

Brawly tapped his finger on his leg absentmindedly. "Well, maybe they were both subleaders or something. Perhaps 'leader' was more like lieutenant, and there was a guy further up that commanded them both?"

She glanced at him sideways, stunned by the sudden display of insight. "Did you think of that all by yourself?" she asked seriously, then winced when she realized just how terrible that sounded. "Sorry, I –"

"I understand. You're tired and you need a break!" Brawly grinned fiendishly, and before Roxanne could react, he'd jumped to his feet and picked her up, all in one move. Then, as in retrospect, he carefully set her on the floor. "Do you want to go on a date with me? Right now?"

Despite herself, Roxanne chuckled slightly. "Only if you're paying." Then her hands flew to her hips as she tried to look strict. "And  _only if we plan on coming back later to finish this._ "

"Alright, alright," Brawly laughed, picking up the stack of books under one arm and carrying them back to the shelves. And despite her insistence on finishing the project, Roxanne couldn't help but notice the butterflies in her stomach.

…

…

Roxanne's English class presents its projects after two weeks. She can tell which members of the groups worked hard, which members did nothing at all, and which ones tried to help but didn't know how. Unless someone complains in writing, she gives everyone in the groups the same grade. After all, that's how life works, so they'd better learn fast.

The blond girl's group actually does a good job. From the list of people that she had handed Roxanne, the teacher had guessed that the only things that would be done properly were the research and the artwork. However, the acting portion included brilliant banter, and the song that one of them had written was sung beautifully.

Roxanne smiles as she circles the letter 'A' at the top of the rubric.

Halfway through the next presentation, the phone rings. Not the classroom phone, but Roxanne's cell phone. Blushing, she picks it up to turn it off – and hesitates when she sees the name lit up in florescent blue.

"Okay, this is important," she tells the class. "I'll be back in a moment." As the door clicks shut behind her, she answers the call.

"Brawly, I told you not to call me in the middle of class!" she says vehemently. "Now my students will think-"

"-that you have a life outside of school? Live a little, Roxanne."

"…this better be important."

"Oh, it  _is_  important," Brawly drawls, and then adopts a familiar accent. "'This is Official League Business!'"

Roxanne rolls her eyes. "Don't make fun of Winona. Just because she's got a more important job than either one of us-"

Brawly replies lazily, "Yeah, well, she ought to relax a little, too. Speaking of which…" She can picture the lopsided smile on his sunburned lips. "Go out with me this weekend? We can go rock-climbing in Granite Cave."

"For your information, you uneducated slacker, that would be called  _spelunking_. And no, I can't." Roxanne hesitates, then adds, "We have a meeting with the Pokemon League this weekend."

They both burst out laughing at the same time.

By the time she's off the phone, the class is nearly over, and she hurriedly makes sure her ringer is actually off this time before returning to her desk. Business as usual until the end of the period.

She will never know for sure, but that knowing smirk on the backwards-baseball-cap boy's face tells Roxanne that perhaps he'd been listening at the door. She makes a note to give him detention next time he puts so much as a  _toe_  out of line.

…

…

They'd gone rock-climbing before. Not together, and not on purpose.

Roxanne's tenth-grade geology class included a mandatory field trip. The objective? To capture and study a localized Pokemon from anywhere in the region.

While Roxanne didn't exactly  _want_  to exploit a local Pokemon, the teacher did tell the class that they could keep whatever Pokemon they caught. Relieved, the girl had set off immediately for the one geological formation in the region that interested her – Granite Cave.

She wasn't the  _only_ person there, of course; Steven Stone was busy searching for an Aron, and there were other people there as well. She didn't bother going along with any of their searches. After all, she planned on finding the rarest, most interesting Pokemon that cave had to offer.

Oh, she found it. But not in the manner she expected.

After several hours of climbing the dubious rope ladders and feeling her way along the cave walls in the dark, Roxanne reached the innermost portion of the cave. She knew this because she could barely see her hands in front of her face, and she could only hear the chattering of thousands of Mawile somewhere in the distance.

And suddenly, it struck her that maybe this whole thing wasn't such a good idea.

"Is anyone out there?" she yelled, giving up on her mission. She would just catch a Geodude and be done with it. All she cared about was getting out of this thing alive.

She didn't hear a response for several minutes, until – "Roxanne, is that you?"

She knew who it was, despite the utter darkness and the blood rushing through her ears. "Brawly, how did you find me?" she asked, stumbling precariously towards his voice.

"I grew up h –  _ow!_ "

"Are you okay?"

"Something attacked me!"

Roxanne turned slightly. She saw a dark figure rushing toward her, and then solid rock hit her shins, sending her keeling backwards. "Ouch!"

"Hold on, I got this," she heard him say. "Makuhita, use Force Palm!"

A chubby fighting type waddled past her and struck the mystery Pokemon. It bellowed in pain, and she was numbly aware of the fact that she had never seen nor heard a Pokemon like this.

"Catch it!" Brawly said excitedly.

So she caught the Nosepass. And they made it out alive, if only thanks to Brawly's keen sense of direction and his arm thrown protectively around her shoulders.

…

…

Roxanne decides that the cafeteria during lunch is a lot like a Pokemon battle. She bases this observation over the kids pushing each other just to get their food a little sooner, as well as the fact that no teacher in the entire school ever wanted lunch duty.

"Don't hit each other!" she yells at a petite brunette girl who looks like she's about to murder a boy in a white cap. It doesn't help, of course, and she sighs in resignation.

At that moment, the cell phone in her pocket vibrates, and she covertly glances around before pulling the little device out and look at the screen. One new text message. She knows who sent it before she even opens her phone.

" _So since we can't go out this weekend, wanna come to Dewford tonight? I have a surprise."_

She sighs and rolls her eyes skyward. This isn't a game she wants to play anymore. She has no doubt that Brawly is just messing with her. She's just… just some girl he knows. He probably has ten or twenty more over in Dewford, just waiting for him to…

She shakes that thought out of her head. Bad, bad.

Roxanne quickly sends a message back.  _"Cut it out. I think we're a little too old for that joke."_

She gets distracted then, mostly because some red-headed guy just hit the baseball-cap kid (she deciphers something like 'Don't touch her with your filthy hands'), and by the time she gets a chance to check her messages again, lunch is over and she sinks into the cafeteria table to read the response.

And her heart nearly stops, because it's everything she dreaded and everything she wanted all those years before.

" _It's not a joke. It's not a game. It never was."_

…

…

Roxanne met Brawly in ninth grade during lunch. She was eating a yogurt and reading a tome of old Kantoan literature.

"What is that, Roxanne? The dictionary?" Shelly was walking by with a tray across her forearms and Tabitha's arm around her waist. She wore a miniskirt and a shirt that plainly exposed her naval. Roxanne took all this in with disapproving eyes.

"No, but it is a lot more interesting than your life," Roxanne retorted. It wasn't exactly the worst insult, but maybe that was for the better. After all, Shelly spread enough rumors about Roxanne (and Flannery, and anyone else who threatened her High Reign) as it was.

Shelly just laughed as she walked off, and Roxanne only glowered at her back.

"You know, she's jealous," a voice said, and Roxanne looked up to see a hunk of a guy, with suitably messy brown hair. She had seen him before… but wasn't he with  _them_?

"You're her friend, aren't you?" she said bitterly, still staring at Shelly's perfectly voluminous locks.

The guy shook his head, still smiling.

"Well, what's your name, then?" she asked, looking at him impatiently. On second thought, he had the look of a popular guy, but… he seemed to be alone. Not to mention, just a little bit too aloof for the likes of Shelly and Courtney and other girls like that.

"Go out with me and I'll tell you."

" _What?"_  she exploded, eyes wide. "You're joking. You have got to be joking."

In the split second she blinked, Roxanne missed the look of pain as it crossed the guy's face. By the time she looked at him again, he had recovered. "Yeah, of course I was joking. It's Brawly, okay?" He stood up, but before he walked away, he added, "And I don't hang out with jocks. If you want to see me in my element, I'll take you surfing some time, alright?"

She never did take him up on that. Later, she comes to regret it.

…

…

Roxanne doesn't visit the beach that night, or the next night. She skips Winona's Pokemon Association meeting, since they aren't  _that_  important.

She does, however, take Mr. Briney's ferry across the gulf the next weekend, and he's waiting there, a broad smile on his face like he was expecting her.

"What was it you wanted to show me?" she asks brutesquely, ignoring the lodestone on both of their minds.

Brawly pointed to Granite Cave. The evening sun bounced off of it, making the entire area glow a dull pink color. "I thought you might like to see, since you love rocks so much. It only happens for about two weeks every couple of years, when the conditions are just…"

Brawly is still talking, but Roxanne is tuning him out. The cave is just too amazing. She doesn't need to know  _why_  it's so amazing, not right now. She has library books for that.

They wordlessly wander down the beach to their Spot. This was the place where they rested after their scare in the caves all those years ago. Even though they haven't visited since, they both still recognize the spare grass and the little dune.

They're quiet for a while. Then Roxanne says, "I quit my job at the school."

When Roxanne had told Winona, her old friend had freaked out, questioning her decision in this economy, before Roxanne had finally just hung up the phone on her.

But Brawly just nods, taking it well into stride. "That place never was too good for you, anyway." He rolls over onto his side to meet her eye. "Besides, that gives you more time to enjoy life. I mean, what good is it to keep doing a job you don't enjoy?"

Still, worries peck at the back of her mind. "What am I going to do now, though? Being a Gym Leader doesn't give me enough money to work with, and I can't go work at Pendra Express or something like that…" She glances at Granite Cave.

Brawly shrugs. "You probably could get a job at Devon. You're smart enough. But does it really matter? Right now?"

She hesitates, biting her lip. For the first time in years, she feels like a kid again. "Did you… did you mean that? What you said?"

He doesn't pretend not to know what she's talking about. He nods without hesitation. "Of course. I've always meant that."

They kiss abruptly, like when two opposing forces meet, like when the pull of the ocean's tides tear away at the stone surface of the land.

And when it's over, she wails in terror. Roxanne is a girl who's never  _not_  known where she will go in life… except maybe destiny is something fluid. Something that will change with her.

And this is the biggest change of all.

"You know what they say in graduation ceremonies," Brawly says, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "It's not the end, it's the beginning."


End file.
